#IrishWriters
I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare: Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where
In the scented bud of the morning–… When the windy grass went rippling… I saw my dear one walking slow In the field where the daisies are… We did not laugh and we did not sp…
I thought I heard Him calling. D… A sound, a little sound? My curio… Is dinned with flying noises, and… Goes—whisper, whisper, whisper sil… Till all its whispers spread into…
The lanky hank of a she in the inn… Nearly killed me for asking the lo… May the devil grip the whey-faced… And beat bad manners out of her sk… That parboiled imp, with the harde…
Do not forget my charge I beg of… That of what flow’rs you find of f… And sweetest odor you do gather th… Are best of all the best—a fragran… A tall calm lily from the watersid…
A little girl and a big ugly man Went down the road. The girl was… And asking to go home, but when sh… He hit her on the head and sent he… And called her a young imp, and sa…
Cow, Cow! I and thou Are looking at each other’s eyes You are lying on the grass Eating every time I pass,
And then I wakened up in such a f… I thought I heard a movement in t… But did not dare to look; I snugg… Down underneath the bedclothes—the… Of a tremendous voice said, ‘Sit…
A speck went blowing up against th… As little as a leaf: then it drew… And broadened.—' It’s a bird,' sa… And fetched my bow and arrows. It… It grew up from a speck into a blo…
Every Sunday there’s a throng Of pretty girls, who trot along In a pious, breathless state (They are nearly always late) To the Chapel, where they pray
Mad Patsy said, he said to me, That every morning he could see An angel walking on the sky; Across the sunny skies of morn He threw great handfuls far and ni…
I will sing no more songs: the pri… Through forty long years of good r… And no one cared even as much as t… For the song or the singer, so her… If a person should think I compla…
There was a giant by the Orchard… Peeping about on this side and on… And feeling in the trees: he was a… As the big apple tree, and twice a… His beard was long, and bristly-bl…
To-day i felt as poor O’Brien did When, turning from all else that w… He took himself to that which was… —He took him to his verse—for othe… And (tho’ man will crave and seek)
The sun is always in the sky Whenever I get out of bed, And I often wonder why It’s never late.—My sister said She did not know who did the trick…
